A little hitch of breath on fucking asshole that is, despite how easy it would be to hear upset, kind of a laugh. Yeah. His hand goes tight on Richie's, and he has to take a moment to wrestle with a wash of feeling, wait for it to subside before he can speak.

"Yo," he says quietly. "What the fuck are you talking about. You're good." That's what he's got, kind of furious that Richie doesn't see it even as he completely gets it, given he needs cooking as the external metric of his value. "You're great. Don't say that shit."